


A Scandal in Bohemia

by whovianlord



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: F/M, I'm not actually gay, M/M, The Woman - Freeform, Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, adler's riding crop, basically created that tag so i could type the name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovianlord/pseuds/whovianlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock, drugged and handcuffed, is dragged into an old abandoned warehouse just outside of Bohemia where The Woman is waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Scandal in Bohemia

**Author's Note:**

> Please be kind. First fan-fiction I've ever written.  
> All comments appreciated. Compliments, criticisms... even if you want me to fuck off. It's all fine.

“No one can figure out where I’m keeping you and even Mycroft’s best efforts are useless. So, go ahead. Make your deductions.” 

The Woman walked out from the shadows and into the small circle of light provided by an old oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. Sherlock remained quiet as he tried to deduce a plausible solution. There was no way that this poor excuse for a dominatrix could have him beaten… in every sense of the word.

“No? That’s a shame. Surely even you in your drugged state would have noticed the change of the road and the sun setting over time. I always said that I would have you and make you beg for mercy twice. Now look at us. But first, tell me where you are. Visit your “mind palace” if you must. I’ve got all day… or night as it may seem.”

Sherlock looked around trying to take in every detail. He was in a darkened room with The Woman standing in front of him and he couldn't make any deductions from her bare state. Apart from the cement floor beneath him, the handcuffs binding his wrists together, and the faint sound of a dripping pipe somewhere in the distance, he couldn't gather any information on what this woman had done to him, let alone where he was. He'd have to improvise. 

“I believe you stated that you would have me on my desk. John didn't know where to look. And, as far as I can tell, my desk isn't here. Unless you know a brilliant delivery man."

“I know what he likes."

"I never would've guessed," Sherlock muttered.

“Quick as always Mr Holmes. But answer my questions or you'll have to be punished. Where are we?”

"Dammit," Sherlock thought. "Showtime, then."

“Judging by your desperation to know," he started cautiously. "I’d say you don’t actually know the answer yourself. Your driver did his job well. I'd wager that we're in an abandoned factory just outside of Bohemia. Rather fitting as you used to live here, I believe?”

“Yes," Irene stated, shifting on her feet. "Before I moved to Belgravia. Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and hereditary King of Bohemia was my client. He was a very naughty boy and quite a mouthful. It was also he that first brought us together. Although my motives back then were more... innocent and your technique, although effective, quite old fashioned.”

“It was a different time.”

“So it was Mr Holmes. But now, you have stolen my protection and I've been ever so kind not to take it from your drugged body. Although my new riding crop was worn in rather nicely. Wouldn't you agree?"

“Your protection is in the safest place in Britain.”

“Mrs Hudson doesn't have it. She's still trying to recover from your 'suicide'.”

“Second safest place in Britain.”

“John is staying with Harry. Still crying over his best friend claiming he’s a fraud before throwing himself of a building. Even if you weren't a couple, which you obviously are, loosing your best friend is difficult enough to deal with. Although you did love him didn't you? You urged to touch him one last time before you fell. To grab his hand, to whisper one word, just one word and have him follow you to the ends of time. The phone is in your pocket. And I plan to use it to record tonight’s proceedings. Evidence I finally beat the virgin.”

“We are not a couple.”

“And I think you're lying."

“I don’t have friends.”

“You've got one.”

“He thinks I'm dead.”

“Does he?”

“John does not know I'm alive.”

“He cut his hand slapping those cheekbones of yours. Lucky bastard.”

“What did you do, Irene?”

“My protection, virgin. I've got an agent from MI4 waiting for me. Also married to a Holmes."

Sherlock glanced at his wrists, still handcuffed together.

"I'm a little tied up at the moment."

Irene smirked and reached into his coat pocket to retrieve the phone.

"Thank you, dear. Jim Moriarty sends his love. Or shall I say Richard Brooks? Goodbye Mr. Holmes. Let's have dinner sometime.”

“Catch you later.”

Irene walked out of the circle of light and Sherlock had to follow the sound of her footsteps in order to track her movements. Two of her henchmen grabbed Sherlock and dragged him back into the back of another waiting car.

"Baker Street," Sherlock said.

"We know, Mr Holmes," one of the henchmen replied. They started the engine and began the long drive back to London.


End file.
